


Ease

by SilverBird13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Javert reciprocates, M/M, Pre-Slash, Symbolism yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The matter remained: Javert needed a bath."<br/>Now with additional Brick sadness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The subject had been procrastinated on for far too long, but the matter remained: Javert needed a bath.

Naturally, Valjean had tried to keep the man as clean as was possible, first wiping the man’s face every morning and night when he was feverish from the Seine and then supplying Javert with a pitcher and soap and fresh linens once he had (more or less) come to. But there was only so much such piecemeal washing could do, and besides, Valjean hoped that a bath might invigorate the sallow shadow that Javert seemed to have become. Only a week had passed, but he saw how broken the man’s spirit was, and shuddered at how unnatural docility sat upon Javert, much the same way he once shuddered at Javert’s formidable wildness was contained in a hat and greatcoat. Still, Valjean feared to leave the man alone with instruments such as a razor or the seemingly- innocuous tub, but his fears of hidden wounds from the schoolboys and infection were far greater.

Valjean entered the makeshift guest room with folded hands and a tight mouth. “Javert, I’ve prepared a bath for you. Would you like to have one-a bath, that is?”

With the barest nod of assent, Javert stood, his eyes fixed beyond Valjean’s shoulder at the bathtub in the next room.

“I’m going to stay-you understand, of course…I’ll avert my eyes, naturally, but…”

Javert followed wordlessly.

Valjean busied himself with laying out the soap and cloth, scissors and razor. Javert, for his part, abruptly pulled off his borrowed nightshirt and climbed into the tub, seemingly blind to Valjean’s now-flustered presence. Swallowing his surprise, Valjean looked up at Javert’s chin, extending the soap and cloth and sitting back on his heels.

Javert did not move.

Valjean sighed inwardly. “I-would you like me to…?” When he received not so much as a blink in response, Valjean slowly dipped the cloth into the water and rubbed it against the soap. With no resistance from Javert, he gently brought the cloth to the other man’s face. Washing Javert when the other man was awake caused the stirrings of the hunted bear to return to Valjean, and now both men winced when Valjean applied the cloth to the large bruise that had resulted from his attempt to subdue Javert in the water. Still, Valjean pressed on, nearly settling into peace until Javert turned to look at him, his eyes silvery with intensity, and Valjean hated himself for recoiling even as he did so. Javert’s gaze did not waver, and Valjean steadied himself quickly, moving the hand that still held the cloth to cup Javert’s bearded cheek.

Valjean found it surprisingly easy to lay a kiss upon Javert’s troubled brow, and even easier to pull the sobbing man’s head to his breast.


	2. Chapter 2

Javert awoke from an impromptu nap in what had become his armchair to a throbbing neck, a spilled cup of coffee on the floor, and what sounded like the wails of the damned coming from Valjean’s room.  Without a thought, Javert leapt forward, cursing himself instantly for not grabbing a knife from the kitchen even as he moved towards the room.

The scene Javert happened upon did little to shock him. Valjean was knelt over a trunk, holding a handkerchief in one hand to try and muffle his sobs and gripping a quantity of dark cloth in the other. Although Javert doubted he had been quiet in his approach, Valjean did not look up from the fabric he held so tightly. A floorboard creaked, and Valjean clutched the garments to his chest and looked up, face contorted in grief. Javert remained in the doorway, feeling the now-familiar unease of being a looming shadow against every happy memory this man could have culled in the past twenty years.

“The girl’s” Javert noted flatly.

“Yes, they’re…they’re the first clothes I bought for Cosette. Just a little dress, a pair of knit stockings, and a thick petticoat, of course-she was so thin and the weather so cold, I…” Valjean’s voice broke off, and he dissolved into retching sobs once again.

Tentatively, Javert strode forward, kneeling down so that he might be on a level with a man whose boots he did not even deserve to polish. He paused, and when Valjean did not bristle at his close vicinity, he reached out to hold Valjean as tightly as he dared.

Valjean frequently spoke soothing words to him, lover’s words, words that he feared would sound like an insincere parroting should Javert speak them now. Instead, he settled for pulling back and cupping Valjean’s clammy cheeks with both hands. Valjean ceased his crying, but Javert watched as his pupils dilate, and Javert cursed inwardly as an animal’s fear returned to Valjean’s eyes. Words it would be.

“She…she’s only halfway across the city, you can visit her, I’m sure she’d like that,” he muttered, stroking a hand up into Valjean’s disheveled hair as the man had done countless times for him. The action earned him a minute nod, and Javert tried not to gloat inwardly as Valjean kissed the thumb of the hand still resting on his cheek.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Javert. Making you listen to my sentimental ramblings like this…”

Instead of following his baser instinct and agreeing, Javert pulled Valjean tight to his chest once more. Valjean could weep over the ham they would be eating for their dinner or the flowers wilting in the heat outside, it did not matter.  Just to be in this man’s presence, to be beholden to him, _to share his bed_ …Javert felt an overwhelming awe that Valjean could share such an intimate side of himself with one that had sunk back into the gutter he had been born to (had he ever even left it?)

Javert shook his head as if to dispel the thought physically from his mind and focused instead on soothing Valjean with the gentlest touches he could manage, praying that he might be enough to convince Valjean that his daughter’s wedding should not be followed by a funeral.


End file.
